


Yesterday's TARDIS

by sleepismyfriend



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Doctor Who 50th Anniversary, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1271245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepismyfriend/pseuds/sleepismyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his greatest enemy trailing along his personal timeline ready to change the Time War's outcome, the Doctor must find a way for his past, present, and future selves to survive long enough to reach the war and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally intended as a 50th anniversary tribute.
> 
> The key characters in this chapter include: Romana II, Leela, the Eighth Doctor, the First Doctor, an original character named Rax, Flavia, and Susan Foreman.
> 
> This work singlehandedly has more characters, serials, and other things mentioned, referenced, and inserted than any other work I could possibly write. If I AO3 tagged each character exclusively above, the list would be enormous, and you would probably dislike that I tagged characters for even the briefest of mentions. I tried to include all of the doctors in some way with the majority of companions. Bear that in mind, please. :)

**Gallifrey – The Eighth Doctor's Era ******

_"Madame President, fellow Council members, we mustn't waste any time. The recent annihilation of several innocent species by the Daleks' invasion force warrants a formal Declaration of War against them, and all who've followed them in their path."_

The Lord Chancellor of Gallifrey had spoken.

Walking towards her chambers, the Lord Chancellor's words echoed through Romana's mind. It had been a long time since the High Council was in consensus about anything, and a formal declaration meant war would be imminent.

"Madame President—" Slipping in-between the flank of Romana's guards in her leather breeches and boots with her dagger holster on her hip, Leela matched Romana's stride. "We have a bit of a situation."

"Tell me about it—" Romana huffed, holding up a scroll of light parchment bound in dark red ribbon.

"Alright then. The Doctor's returned."

"Well, isn't that just wizard—"

\--

The High Council's procession took forever to dissipate, as the Doctor stood in a spare audience box above them with his arms crossed. He had forgotten how long-winded Time Lords could be, and was grateful the High Council had elected not to wear the ghastly traditional yet ceremonial robes that had plagued his younger selves. He waited for Romana to descend from her podium, and out of the Panopticon before he turned to leave.

As he turned, the Doctor found himself face to face with two of Romana's Chancellery Guard.

"Good evening, gentleman. To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

"Madame President requests your attention," the one on the left said, his emotionless expression not wavering.

"You both really should find better paying employment," the Doctor said with a sigh. "Alright, lead the way."

\--

"Barely five minutes back on the planet, and already you've sent the Presidential Goon Squad after me." With the dark ribbon tossed to the side, the Council's Declaration of War lay unbound across the surface of Romana's desk. Romana remained too engrossed in thought to notice the two guards she had sent after the Doctor had returned successful.

The Doctor stopped across her desk, noticing her dark Council robes and lack of response. "Alright, so it wasn't a good Earth reference, but would you please tell them they can resume their post? Romana, you're not even listening, are you?"

Romana sat back in her chair, her pointer finger going along her temple while her middle finger went across her upper lip. She stared at the Council's freshly affixed seals, knowing that with her own, her Presidency and all it had accomplished would forever be tarnished by Davros's invasion force.

She looked up to see the Doctor's easy smile, knowing in this eighth incarnation of his, smiles were his way of trying to deal with impossible situations. She almost wished he were the incarnation she used to travel with, but knew his younger incarnation's rather extravagant idealism would not sit well with the Council now.

Romana nodded her head towards the guards, who exited.

"You're late," she said, dropping her hand to her lap.

"I know, I'm sorry. It took longer than I expected to wrangle the support you needed. Then, the TARDIS' stabilizers went on the blink. Spent quite a bit of time in the Vortex before they, for the lack of a better word, stabilized. Where's the bodyguard?"

"Security briefing." Romana leaned forward, as the Doctor sat on the edge of her desk. "Preliminary scouting suggests the Daleks' armies have found a way through the sky trenches, and Leela's taking every precaution. She's hopeful the Citadel will hold till the very end."

"Who knew a savage could be so useful?" She saw the Doctor's eyes scan the formal Declaration briefly, before looking towards her.

"Joke if you must, but when the time comes, I'll put my money with her Janus thorns, and less with your sense of humour." Romana gave a small smirk she knew she shouldn't before taking a long look at him. "They're waiting on you, Doctor."

"Who?"

"The Daleks, Davros, the large warships in orbit with their weapons at the ready? Take your pick."

"What have I done to any of them, lately? I've been too busy being your errand boy. Against my better judgment, I might add."

"It isn't what you've done lately, Doctor. It's what you did hundreds of years ago," Romana sighed. "When you failed to prevent the Daleks' evolution on Skaro, the Matrix formulated the fixed point at which Davros would try to destroy Gallifrey and its allies. The rest is purely speculative. However, one thing remains the same. You will end the war, Doctor. I know it, the Daleks know it, and now that you know it, everything is in motion."

"There's more to it. More than what you're telling me." His voice losing its softness, the Doctor's eyes narrowed. "How could the Daleks possibly know the war's outcome?"

"While you've been travelling, the Daleks have been busy. They've developed stronger faster methods of travel throughout the space-time continuum, eluding our most talented temporal researchers. Their goal is one thing and one thing alone—To find you."

"But I'm here—"

Romana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Don't be so obtuse, Doctor. There is more than one of you travelling through the Vortex. The Daleks have studied your timeline, profiled those companions you enjoy so well, and picked the perfect moment in each of your incarnations to snatch you from time. It would only take one success for the Daleks' fate to change."

"Wonderful." The Doctor rubbed the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "I've become bait."

"I wouldn't have phrased it so humanly, but yes."

"Well then," the Doctor stood. "Should the Daleks succeed, there's no telling how my capture would change the timelines. I need to go warn my other selves."

"No, your place is here, working with Leela, and keeping an eye on things in my absence. I will go warn your other selves."

"Why? I don't want any part of this war."

"And you think I do? Not all of us have the luxury of being conscientious observers, Doctor. Some of us have to do what is necessary in order to survive." Romana stood.

There was silence, as their eyes locked. Romana then reached for her Presidential seal, affixing the crimson ink next to the Chancellor's. She then rolled up the Declaration, tying the dark ribbon around it before holding it out.

"And here you thought you were some quiet old Time Lord living out your days in a broken down police box." Romana's smile left a lot to be desired, as the lump in her throat refused to budge. "Imagine our surprise. You'll see that they get this?"

As he nodded and took the Declaration, the large booming klaxons of the Citadel filled Romana's office. The Doctor and Romana's eyes then lifted. If Leela had indeed calculated correctly, the klaxons meant the Daleks weren't far behind.

"Once more unto the breach, dear Fred," he whispered, his eyes lowering. "Please be careful."

"You too." Romana managed to swallow the lump, watching the Doctor as he turned and left. A beat passed before her chambers opened once more, and Leela entered with K-9 trailing behind.

The tears would have to wait, Romana told herself.

\--

**Gallifrey – The First Doctor's Era**

Still wearing his robes from the Academy's scientific symposium, the Doctor crossed the Citadel's main thoroughfare to a smaller side street, intent on heading back to his lab before the twin suns set. The symposium had left him in deep thought, as his mentor's newest pupil presented his results of testing stable anti-matter environments in the universe.

So deep in thought about anti-matter mechanics, he didn't hear his name being called until a hand reached out, and touched his shoulder.

"Professor, are you alright?" Raxilundarmelino, or Rax, was no more than thirty years of age with dark curly hair and hazel eyes. His green and brown robes signified his Arcalian designation, but everyone knew he was Flavia's most valued apprentice.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" The Doctor resumed walking with Rax at his side.

"The Keeper sent me to find you."

"Oh?" The Doctor stopped once more. Flavia was the newly appointed Keeper of the Matrix, a coveted role amongst the most prestigious of Time Lords. Though they were friends in similar academic circles, if she had sent Rax after him, it had to be something important. "Well, my dear boy, lead the way. The Keeper is about as happy as I am about waiting."

Both turned back towards the direction the Doctor came, walking a step faster than before.

\--

With Rax vouching for him, getting past the Chancellery Guards to the Matrix chambers was easy. Rax led the Doctor through the windy corridors until they stood outside the Matrix's outer chamber.

"You've done a fine job, Rax." The Doctor touched the young Gallifreyan's shoulder. "Thank you."

"The pleasure was mine, Professor. I look forward to seeing you again," Rax smiled. As the Doctor entered the outer chamber, the first thing he noticed were the large computing panels lining the walls. He marvelled at the range of the Matrix's computing power, not noticing Flavia standing nearby with her back to him.

"Stunning, isn't it?" Flavia glanced over her shoulder, smiling at the Doctor's obvious curiosity. "The Matrix triangulates nearly thirty thousand algorithms per second as long as its system remains at peak efficiency. If even one digit is off, the system is dead for several hours. I've been putting some finishing touches on the latest probability formulas. It could increase our accuracy by seven percent."

"I'm sceptical about its use, but it is a marvellous piece of technology."

"I should wonder if you weren't at least a little sceptical. After all, you are more doubtful than most," Flavia moved towards him, noticing his formal robes. "And, I see that despite your protests, you went to the symposium. Borusa must have been pleased."

"He seemed so. His young pupil has quite the potential, though I think his research needs more refinement. I counted at least three holes in his hypothesis, and another dozen or so in his analysis."

"You do realize that's probably why Borusa wanted you there? To see if the project passed your approval and if it didn't, how the research involved could be improved? You've always poked holes in research, Theta."

"Only when the science didn't quite live up to the hype. Now, you didn't really send Rax after me for a few japes, did you?" the Doctor asked, watching as Flavia's expression shifted from light to dark. That's when he noticed what he could only assume was the Key of Rassilon hanging from a leather cord around her neck. She closed one fist around the quartz key, and sighed.

"I trust you understand the delicate nature of my position. The Matrix isn't a toy or a weapon for Time Lords to use as they see fit. It's a guideline designed to help us see where we can avoid disrupting the universe."

"Now, that's where I'm afraid you're wrong, Flavia. Every second of every minute we live and breathe, we're disrupting the universe by existing."

Flavia took a deep breath. "Come with me, please."

On the far wall of the room, the computer panels ended with enough space for a door to face them. Moving towards the door, Flavia slipped the Key of Rassilon from around her neck, and inserted it into the door's lock. Much like an old-fashioned lock the Doctor tinkered with in his lab, the Key twisted so the door would open, and both could pass.

Inside the next room, the Doctor could see why the Time Lords so valued the Matrix. More computer panels and bits of cables and wires took up the smaller space, the panels' lights being the only thing illuminating the dark room besides the centre of the Matrix itself.

The centre of the Matrix was a long column rising from the floor, a bluish glow emanating from its core. The top of its surface was rounded with several holes of light shining through, which the Doctor knew in theory were part of the Matrix apparatus.

He watched, as Flavia handled the Matrix apparatus with both knowledge and care. She used the Key of Rassilon in the centre of the column, powering up the Matrix.

The lights changed, sending the room's ambience from a dark and mysterious blue to a variety of reds and greens as the Matrix booted up. Flavia moved across the room to where the cables she needed were stored.

"As an initiate to the Matrix, I was given the opportunity to see into my future." Flavia began, inserting each cable into the holes at the top of the central column and hitting an appropriate button. "Unfortunately, the experience was a bit more jarring than I would have liked."

"How so? Did you not like your future self?" The Doctor tried his best not to be amused about Flavia's skittishness.

Once Flavia had all the cables hooked up, she took two ends of the cables she needed and turned to face the Doctor. "Time is on our side, Theta, but the universe is not. I need you to look into your own future."

"Why?"

"Please? If nothing else, consider it an exercise in futility." The corners of her mouth turned upward. The Doctor kept his distance from the central column as Flavia's cool fingers attached a sensor to both sides of his temples. "This shouldn't hurt a bit."

The Doctor watched as Flavia moved to the far wall to operate the Matrix. He knew he shouldn't be scared. After all, what was the Matrix compared to looking into the Untempered Schism as a child? It wasn't like he was going to go mad from knowing a few details about what the Matrix hypothesized could happen to him.

He could feel the hum of the machines change as his eyes closed, and the Matrix's small electrical currents ran through the cables to his temples and inside his brain.

As his eyes opened, his memories flashed before him, each time with a different pair of eyes.

\--

_"We are not of this race. We are not of this earth. Susan and I are wanderers in the fourth dimension of space and time, cut off from our own people by distances beyond the reach of your most advanced science." He catches himself saying, though he's unsure of why he needs to defend himself from the curious humans standing in front of him._

\--

_"Welcome to my new empire, Doctor. It is only fitting that you should bear witness to the resurrection and triumph of Davros, lord and creator of the Dalek race." Being considerably taller, the Doctor feels the thicker and curlier hair atop his head, his nose large and out of place. He stares at the being in the metal chair in front of him, not fully understanding the moment for what it represents._

\--

_He is old again, a bandolier across his chest, with a large rifle in his hand. Where did he pick up such a device? How does he know to use it?_

_The orange sky of Gallifrey glows, as the ashes of the Citadel both frighten and surprise him. He can hear screams of women and children off in the distance, and smells the stench of death and decay. What has become of his planet?_

_Then he sees them, the metal beings from before. Without knowing how or why, he fires the rifle._

\--

_"The link is broken. Back into the Time War, Rassilon. Back into hell." He hears himself saying, his eyes shifting to the woman standing behind Rassilon, who drops her hands to stare at him. Should he know her? What does this moment represent?_

\--

_He is much younger than he has ever looked, as his hands appear smooth and clean. He looks in front of him to see a woman standing in front of him holding the hands of two children, her mouth wide as though something is not quite right._

_"The universe is cracked, the Pandorica will open, silence will fall." The woman then bares her teeth._

\--

The Matrix then ended. The Doctor's eyes opened, blinking several times, as he readjusted to the multi-coloured ambiance. Flavia's back was to him, as she powered down the Matrix's operating system, and the dark blue lights returned around them. He didn't wait for her to pull the Matrix's sensors from his temples.

"You saw it, didn't you?" No sooner had she turned towards him that he shook his head.

"Saw what?" He was hesitant to mention a war he knew nothing about.

"Theta—" Flavia's tone tried to remain light, but warning, as she took the Matrix sensors from him, and set them to the side.

"None of it has to happen. It's purely speculation on the Matrix's part. A hundred thousand probabilities based on a thousand choices." With his eyes darting back and forth still processing the Matrix's predictions, the Doctor knew he was lying, but didn't want to believe in all the things he had seen just yet. There were too many things he had done, too many faces he had yet to even encounter, if he encountered them at all.

A different key turning in the lock signalled that someone was about to enter, and Flavia looked towards the door. A middle-aged female Time Lord entered, wearing dark robes with a different copy of the Key of Rassilon from the one around Flavia's neck.

"Hello Doctor," the woman said. "I've travelled quite a ways back to see you."

The Doctor and Flavia exchanged looks. From the Time Lord's smug expression the Doctor knew that somewhere in time she knew him as more than an acquaintance.

"Who are you? And, what are you doing here?" The Doctor asked.

"It doesn't matter," the woman said, mimicking Flavia by putting the Key of Rassilon around her neck. "But I can show you my crown if you like."

From under her robes, Romana pulled a slim golden crown out for them to see before reattaching it to her belt. It no doubt justified her appearance.

"Oh I think it does matter," he said. "For you bear precious Time Lord artefacts belonging to Rassilon. That implies you're someone important."

"My name's Romanadvoratrelundar. Romana for short," Romana replied, trying not to smile at the thought of this Doctor calling her Fred. "From the looks of it, I think I've arrived precisely at the right time. Well done, self." She turns to Flavia. "You're Flavia, newly initiated Keeper of the Matrix, yes?"

"That's right," Flavia said.

"If you would excuse the Doctor and I, there is much we need to discuss. I'd like to keep your deniability plausible, and as low key as possible," Romana said. Flavia looked to the Doctor, who nodded his head.

As Flavia exited, Romana moved towards the central column, eyeing it with unusual candour for a computational repository.

"I need to know what you saw in the Matrix, Doctor," Romana said. "Did you see the Daleks?"

"The Daleks?" The Doctor scoffed. "Is that what those things with eyestalks are? They looked like antique Sol pepper pots if you ask me."

"One day, they're going to be our greatest and most perseverant enemy. I suggest you learn all you can about them," Romana stared at him. "In the meantime, I've come on behalf of your future selves."

"Why?"

Romana noted how his voice seemed more rattled than even his usual, with his attention askew. "You've seen the war, haven't you?"

"What war?"

"Now is not the time for games, Doctor." Romana felt her facial muscles tensing with annoyance. "You must leave Gallifrey at once."

"Leave Gallifrey? Why?"

"There will be a time in our lives, my past, your future, where I will ask you the very same question," Romana smiled, as her voice softened. "But as we don't have the time to reminiscence, I'll have to tell you to trust me."

"I don't see how, when I don’t know what you're talking about."

"In the last days of Gallifrey, there will be a war." Romana circled around the centre column, studying it even though she knew its capability. "A war to end all life in the cosmos."

Romana stopped. "The Matrix predicts two ends to the war. One in which you survive, and one in which you perish at the Daleks' hands."

"I'm not a soldier, I'm a scientist—"

"Hear me out, please. You matter. You will always matter. Presumably because you don't know when to butt out of things that are not your concern." Romana's voice remained calm. "And the Daleks are coming. They will try to kidnap you at some point in each of your future lives. If you don't leave Gallifrey, if you don't warn your other selves about what is going to happen, you have decided the fate of the entire universe."

"My dear girl, bebopping around the cosmos like some hooligan does not exactly sound promising. There are reasons why we have temporal laws, including the ones that say we should not meet other Time Lords out of temporal sequence. The universe nearly folds in on itself each and every time. My place is here with my research."

"Surely, you don't believe that."

"Perhaps I do."

"Then you are not the Doctor I thought you were, and this was a waste of precious time and resources. I violated a hell of a lot to come here, Doctor, including those precious temporal laws you seem so keen to protect." Romana turned to leave, when the Doctor spoke.

"This war you speak of. It will end all life, you say?"

"Yes."

"And there's no way we can prevent it?"

"I'm afraid not." Romana's voice lowered.

The Doctor took several steps towards her, placing his hands behind his back. "In the end, the sky will glow with the ashes of terror and destruction. The Citadel in all of its majesty will crumble under the pressure of fire and ice. And, even if we do succeed and I survive, there shall be little left to speak of."

"I would rather there be a little than nothing at all, Doctor. You taught me that. When there's life, there's—"

"Hope—" The Doctor met her eyes, as though he was truly looking at her for the first time, realizing that she did in fact know him somewhere in the cosmos. "If I'm going to leave Gallifrey, I'll need a ship. There's no telling what sort of mischief I'll get into. I take it you have an idea about how to reach my other selves from inside the Vortex?"

"You'll have to send a trans-temporal communiqué to your other selves. Though I'm afraid I don't know where or even when you might find them."

"As long as I find them, we'll be in good shape. I don't suppose you are travelling with me?"

The Doctor's hands rested on the open front of his robes, as he noticed Romana's gaze softening. Her eyes became unusually glazed over, and yet, somehow he knew she wouldn't let the tears fall.

"My fate was chosen a long time ago. For better or for worst, I must be present when Gallifrey falls." Romana took a deep breath, thinking of both the curly haired Doctor and the Doctor she had left on Gallifrey. Despite the differences in their personalities, their love of Shakespeare had never waned. "From this day to the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remembered."

"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers," the Doctor said, reciting the next line, to Romana's nod.

"When it's all said and done, Doctor, do me this favour—find a nice quiet corner of the universe, and stay out of time's way?"

"I can only try," the Doctor said. He then turned, leaving Romana behind.

\--

"Grandfather—" Heading towards the shipyards, he could hear Susan's shouts from a distance, as her long-robed stride caught up to him, but her eyes remained on the puzzle box in her hands. "I think I've finally cracked your puzzle. You didn't tell me to consider the fourth dimension."

"I knew I wouldn't have to. Well done," he smiled. "I'll have to find you a harder one for next time. When I return."

"When you return?" Her eyes moved upward, as her hands stopped moving across the puzzle box. "Where are you going?"

"I'm afraid I don't quite know." His brow furrowed. "But I have been told it will be an adventure."

"An adventure? Really, Grandfather, now you have me even more curious. You don't have adventures."

"Oh my dear, it appears that will not always be so." The Doctor stopped, and turned to face her. The slight droop in his eyes made Susan tilt her head, and he sighed. "And I must get going so I may come back. Don't wait up."

The Doctor continued walking, knowing Susan's eyes remained at his back. He turned left once he saw the wide gates of the shipyard in-between the other random buildings. Then, seeing the double chancellery guard in red and gold standing in place outside of the entrance as he approached, the Doctor's eyes looked towards the smaller Type-40 museum, an idea about a ship formulating in his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having travelled to the Medusa Cascade, the Eleventh Doctor meets his other selves, starting with the first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of sanity, please refer to the Doctors in your imagination and in this chapter text by their numbers. It was the easiest way, really. 
> 
> The key characters in this chapter include: the First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, Ninth, Tenth, and Eleventh Doctors.

**The Medusa Cascade – The Eleventh Doctor's Era**

Flipping Craig's spare key back and forth across his knuckles, the Doctor leaned against the TARDIS' open doorway, jacketless in a blue shirt and red bowtie. The time-sensitive nebula really hadn't changed since his previous incarnation. The multi-faceted pink-orange and blue-green hues were the same fluorescent backdrop with the random scattering of asteroids that disappeared and reappeared at the appearance of sunlight and supernovas. Perhaps both in excess combination.

Sighing, the Doctor turned away. He slipped the key into his front pocket, and made his way up the curved metal and glass ramp to his console, as the TARDIS door closed behind him. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough, he was sure he could recreate Jackie Tyler's shrill at his thoughts.

_Sunlight and supernovas indeed_ , her voice echoed, as he visualized her leaning against one of his tall corals looking as bored as ever.

"Alright, you." The Doctor reached for the glowing hypercube that had brought him here, the one he had left sitting against the Time Rotor while he did an initial perimeter sweep of surrounding space. "You're a message from someone important. Now, I demand you tell me what that is."

The hypercube continued to pulse, unmoved. The Doctor leaned back against the console rail, crossed his ankles, and twirled the hypercube like a small ball between his hands.

"I see," he said, frowning. "So not communicating is part of the message, is it? Even from the beyond the farthest reaches of space, I see the Time Lords once again have me on a wild goose chase. Imagine that at my age. From the looks of it, imagine it from yours. You're awfully dim."

He set the hypercube back up against the Time Rotor. There hasn't been a hypercube in normal space in eons, and this one wasn't distinguishable, Time Lord or otherwise.

His console began to beep, and he moved towards the monitor, pulling it towards him with both hands.

"Oh." His voice cracked, as he swallowed the rather nervous lump caught in his throat. He circled around his console, flipping several switches and pushing several buttons. He even spun around once, feeling the TARDIS tremor around him. The glass deck plates shook under his feet, and he grabbed the console rail, as the tremors grew more violent.

Once the TARDIS settled back down, the Doctor straightened.

He ran his hand through his hair, catching a few dark strands on the back of his neck much like his previous spiky-haired incarnation when he was on the cusp of something unexpected. He then paced back and forth before he stopped, and looked towards his TARDIS doors.

The decision had already been made, hadn't it? He reached for his jacket, slung over the console rail, and slipped it on. He then descended down the ramp.

\--

The sterile white roundels of his previous TARDIS corridors greeted the Doctor, as he moved forward. He didn't dally, focusing on the open archway at the end of the corridor where more roundels and one half of his original metal TARDIS console were visible.

As the Doctor passed the open archway, the full console came into view. He noticed the wooden coat rack standing in one corner, a dark coat and hat slung over it. His eyes then shifted towards the grey-haired gentlemen waiting for him on the far side of the console.

"Hello Doctor," the Doctor smiled, a slight nostalgic twinkle in his eyes, as he stepped closer. "Nice to see you again. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"For you, maybe," the original Doctor huffed, squaring his shoulders. He then placed his hands on each side of his waistcoat with a sloppy hanging black tie between them. "Which one of my future selves might you be?"

A pause.

"I'm commonly known as the eleventh. Though, we've had a few exceptions over the last millennia. I've been the eleventh, the twelfth, the thirteenth, and some misinformed doomsday cult insists I'm the fourteenth as if that were a thing. Take it up with the universe, I'm sure it'll straighten out our numerical order eventually." The Doctor remained on the opposite side of the console.

"Nevertheless, you received my message."

"Your coordinates, yes. Your hypercube found me on Earth in the early twenty-first century. Judging by its glow, I'd say it was on the brink of giving up." The Doctor remembered entering the TARDIS, only to have the hypercube float into the open doorway. It fell to the floor before it had reached the console.

"You've been to Sol III? Tell me, what's it like?" From the way in which the curiosity in the original's voice filtered through his stodgy exterior, the Doctor couldn't help but allow a small wistful smirk.

"Earth's been our sandbox, our battleground—It's one of the few places in the universe besides this beautiful ship that we've called home," the Doctor said, pointing backwards. "Now—Tell me that wasn't your only hypercube."

The original collected himself.

"It took a great deal of effort to secure this type-40 from the shipyards, and I had limited options. The woman on Gallifrey told me to send a trans-temporal communiqué to my future selves. However, as I'm sure you will understand, this TARDIS is an antique. It can barely hold a dematerialization circuit to say nothing about powering a communiqué of that magnitude across time and space."

The lights of the console room flickered around them.

"Ssssh—" Leaning in, the Doctor held a finger to his lips before stroking the console. "You're hurting the old girl's feelings. There, there, TARDIS, he didn't mean it. You are perfect just the way you are, or have been, or will be."

As the Doctor's voice softened, the original raised an eyebrow. "I don't take breaking our temporal laws as lightly as I once did in our foolish youth with Koschei and Ushas. The fabric of time and space is delicate, and we must make this meeting count."

"Our meetings will always count, don't you worry. However, as far as Koschei and Ushas are concerned, their radical beliefs will not. Though, I don't remember any kind of divine intervention sending me here when I was you. There were other things. Important things," the Doctor said, pausing. "On Gallifrey, you said there was a woman. The one that said you needed to send a trans-temporal communiqué?"

"She said her name was Romana. I didn't ask for more details." No sooner had the original said "Romana" did the Doctor's face blanch. His expression darkened, as the original continued to speak. "Now, will you help me reach the others? I promise to explain everything once we are all together."

The Doctor's fingers danced over the console. He second-guessed himself twice on which buttons to push on the older console before placing both palms on the larger circles, and turning. The lights once again flickered.

"I've input the TARDIS' base codes, but your TARDIS isn't responding to my commands. Could be a power problem, or something as simple as a short circuit. As we don't have adequate enough time or the means to investigate, we're going to have to be resourceful," the Doctor said, not looking at his younger self. He could at least remember his own version of events leaving Gallifrey; complete with weeks of terminal rewiring and alien forms of duct tape Susan had procured.

"Understood," the original said, making several corrections of his own across the console. "I've severed the link between our ships, stabilized life support and what little shields I do have."

"Your shields won't be necessary." The Doctor waved him off. "We're going to need far greater power, and I've already accounted for their weakness."

"Oh?" The original watched his future self twist a dial, and the environment around them changed. The gold and orange hues of the Doctor's modern console surrounded them as though the console rooms were one and the same.

The Doctor wasted no time, circling to the far side of the console hitting switches and adjusting to the addition of an extra TARDIS, as the original stepped forward, touching the more advanced console in the same worshipful manner the Doctor had touched his.

"Simply marvellous—" The original whispered, scanning the console's surface. His eyes then widened, as he looked to the larger and more expanded Time Rotor. His voice rose. "You'd never guess it was the same ship."

"That's because she isn't, not really. Our TARDIS has been rebuilt, and patched up more times than I could possibly count. Much like her pilot, everything is an improvement on the original."

"What kind of name is TARDIS for a ship, and why are we using it?" The original asked, and the Doctor looked up, their eyes meeting. The Doctor finished giving the TARDIS instructions via the console before moving towards the left of his younger self.

"You know, I don't remember exactly. In the early days, Susan coined it as an explanation. And then Ian and Barbara came along, likening it to a nickname, and somewhere along the Vortex it eventually stuck." The Doctor's smirk left a lot to be desired, melancholy creeping into his tone. He leaned against the console, crossing his arms. "So, indulge Susan when she thinks she's being clever and original, alright? She'll like that."

The Doctor turned, patting his younger self's shoulder, as he faced the console once again.

"The structural integrity of our TARDISes together is holding. However, my TARDIS is doing most of the work. The longer they hold together, the more your TARDIS will equalize." The Doctor formed a ball with his hands. His voice then slowed. "Our dearest Romana underestimated how much raw energy it takes to transmit a trans-temporal communiqué across the Vortex. So, while we wait, I've shed a few rooms, and created a neutral meeting space. It will be ready by the time the others arrive."

"Perhaps, it wasn't a total loss to meet you first," the original said, the stodgy line across his lips softening. "You've anticipated things I can't even fathom."

"A millennia does nothing if not make you a bit of a boy scout," the Doctor said, smiling. He moved towards the stairs trailing upwards, taking only a few before the original stopped him.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"Oh, you know, here, there, going to hide all the valuables from our other lives—I'll be back shortly."

\--

Having been left alone, the original Doctor circled the console. His fingers skimmed the various switches, but he hesitated touching anything when he didn't know their precise function. He ignored the monitor altogether, stopping on the farthest side of the console away from the doors, when the TARDIS chimed around him.

"Don't be frightened," the Doctor said, reappearing at the top of the stairs. He descended. "That's the TARDIS' way of telling me our guests have begun arriving. One last chance, be honest. Are you sure you want to meet all of us at once? We're rather obnoxious even in small amounts of three or less."

The Doctor held up three fingers, as his younger self nodded.

"Time is of the essence," the original said.

Both TARDIS doors were then pulled opened from the outside, as the second Doctor in bowtie and tweed and the third Doctor in red velvet tried to enter at the same time. They glared at one another before the second stepped one-half step forward to get ahead.

"Nice piloting, you idiot," the third said, hitting the second on the back of the head once they reached the base of the curved ramp. "If the Daleks weren't after us before, I'm sure they are now after listening to your brakes grind across the galaxy."

"Me? You're the one that circled twice around Androzani's tomb before reappearing in the Vortex like some madman in a race car. You nearly ran me over twice. Your guidance systems need recalibration," the second said.

"My guidance systems are one-hundred per cent aligned to shipyard standards," the third's hands went to his hips.

"Perhaps, that's your problem. The shipyard standards are rubbish, and so is your driving," the second said, lifting his chin so that the six inches of height between him and the third weren't as noticeable.

"Gentlemen, a word?" The Doctor stood at the top of the ramp, pinching the bridge of his nose. He smirked, and lifted his hands. "Welcome to the party."

The third walked up the ramp, only to stop in the middle. He gave the TARDIS a once over look around before his eyes returned to the Doctor.

"You must be the latest model."

"I am," the Doctor said, his grin widening.

"You look more like him than you do me."

"More clown than dandy, yes. I wanted to return to something youthfully familiar," the Doctor said, resisting the urge to tug at his bowtie. The third rolled his eyes, and moved past him towards the original, as the second took his place in the middle of the ramp. "What do you think?"

"Does it matter what I think?"

"Of course it matters. I took my style cues from you."

The second eyed him.

"You may look like me, but that doesn't mean you necessarily remember how to be me," the second said, tilting his head towards the third. The third wasn't paying any attention to either of them, speaking with the original. "He didn't, at any rate."

The second moved past the Doctor, as the fourth and seventh walked through the TARDIS doors. The fourth, in a burgundy short coat, was missing his long and multi-coloured scarf. He listened, both hands in his pockets, as the seventh gesticulated his story with his trademark red brolly.

"Oh, that's brilliant," the fourth said, laughing. He ran one hand through his thick curls. "I love a good stakeout."

"Not with Ace, you wouldn't. That girl's practically chomping at the bit to blow the scene sky high," the seventh said, shaking his head. "I can hardly get her to sit still and be quiet."

"Both of which are highly admirable traits," the fourth said.

They approached the base of the ramp, where the fourth looked up, his eyes widening.

"Permission to come aboard," he said, leaning on the rail while trying his hardest not to grin.

"Permission granted," the Doctor said, then looking to the seventh. "Though please tell me you left our legendary explosive extraordinaire at home."

"Yes, yes, I have at least that much sense," the seventh said, hooking his brolly on his arm to tap his right temple. "Thirteen professors in one room does not quantify an equally advisable companion."

"But, not for lack of trying," the Doctor said. "And, what about you? You don't have any imbeciles lying about your TARDIS, do you?"

"I haven't seen Harry Sullivan in years," the fourth said, shrugging. "Currently, companionless, as it were."

"Are you going to ask each of us that, or just us?" The seventh motioned between him and the fourth. "Because I'm sure you didn't ask the other bowtie, or the dandy, or even the original who they have lying about their TARDIS."

The fourth's eyes narrowed at the mention of the third, and he looked past the Doctor to see the third bantering with the second while the original watched. The third caught his gaze, and smirked at the fourth's slight sneer.

"I think we'll find that all of our incarnations found the trans-temporal communiqué precisely when we have no companions to speak of. Isn't that right, Doctor?" The fourth's eyes returned to his older self, who sighed.

"For sanity's sake, yes," the Doctor said. "Companions complicate things."

"Well, there is that," the fourth said, stopping halfway much like his second and third selves. He held onto the rail, as the original, second, and third Doctors moved towards them. The second and third stood to the Doctor's left, while the original moved around the console towards his right.

"Exactly how many others are we waiting on, Doctor?" The second asked the Doctor, to which the original responded.

"Quite a few," the original said. "After all, he's the eleventh."

"The eleventh?" The seventh moved next to the fourth. "Have we really been reduced to a young-eyed giraffe towards the end of our lives?"

"It appears so—" the third said. "Except we insist on recycling the same dusty old bowtie of our youth."

"Oy," the Doctor said, his face scrunching ever so slightly.

"Yes, watch it old man," the second said, poking the third. "Bowties are universally fashionable."

"Who are you calling old?" The third asked, his thumb motioning to his right. "I'm not the one pushing my eleventh life looking like something out of that Chaplin fellow's closet."

"I think he could give Charlie a few pointers, actually," the seventh said, smiling with a wag of the eyebrows to the third's scowl.

The Doctor pinched his nose.

"You all are even more obnoxious and insulting than I remember," the Doctor said. "And fixated on fashion for some awful reason."

"I know what'll fix this," the fourth said.

"Oh, please, take all the time you need, and enlighten us," the Doctor said, sighing. "It's not as if we're waiting for others."

"We'll call you Benjamin Button," the fourth said, his eyebrows lifting, as he looked from his seventh self to the Doctor. "Thirsty would appreciate the irony, wouldn't he?"

"And the lovely Zelda as well," the seventh said, nodding his head, to which the fourth laughed. It was at that moment that a crash came from beyond the door. The doors opened to a blonde curly haired Doctor with an extremely colourful jacket walking through them.

"What on Earth have I walked into? Shangri-La? Have we given up on the idea of cool colours? There is a ridiculous amount of red and gold in here." The sixth Doctor slapped his hands against his sides, looking towards the other Doctors. "What have you imbeciles done to my TARDIS?"

The original frowned, as the second shrugged, and the third moved back to allow the fourth and seventh past the Doctor to the console.

"It's our TARDIS, and I've done what I've always done, which if your coat is anything to go by, is whatever I like," the Doctor said with a slight smile. "Hello Sixie."

"I don't know why I'm here, Doctor," the sixth said, standing at the base of the ramp, his hands on his hips. "But I don't like it."

"Ditto," the other five Doctors chimed in from behind the Doctor, and the Doctor smirked.

"You should know we can't always be where we like," the Doctor said, motioning behind him with a random wave.

"Do you understand exactly how much damage this meeting will cost us? We're playing with the very being of time and space in order to bubble our TARDISes around one another. Which is very clever by the way, I'm surprised I didn't think of it well before you came along."

The fifth Doctor had entered without anyone noticing, taking his place at the base of the ramp next to the sixth.

"That's the brilliant thing about getting older," the fifth Doctor said, placing a hand on the sixth's shoulder. "You learn a few things."

"Hmph," the sixth said. "Obviously, I learned how to be a better Time Lord than you will ever be."

The fifth smiled.

"Believe that all you like, but somehow I highly doubt that." The fifth turned towards the Doctor, moving one step past the sixth. "Fifth Doctor reporting in. I do hope this is an emergency if you've wrangled us into one TARDIS like cattle."

"If he's here, there must be," the Doctor said, motioning to the original. "So, thank you for being understanding."

"Oh, I'm not always understanding, but patience. Patience is a pretty good virtue to have in abundance," the fifth said, tapping his nose. "It keeps the universe fresh."

"Speak for yourself," the sixth huffed, rolling his eyes, and the fifth laughed.

"Oh, what a joyous existence I have to look forward to. Burn that coat when you leave, would you?" the fifth said, eyeballing the sixth's attire. "Now, can you play nicely with the others, or are we going to have to get you your own sandbox?"

"I'll tell you what you and your damned vegetable can go get—" The sixth motioned to the small celery on the fifth's collar.

"Gentlemen," the original said, stepping forward. "We are here for one reason and one reason alone. We do not have time for incessant squabbling and profanities."

"He's right," the fourth added, leaning against the far console rail, looking deep in thought. "How many more, Doctor?"

The Doctor counted the other Doctors' heads.

"Three more, I think, though one of us isn't very Doctor-like, and I have no idea if the half will show up."

"The half?" The seventh asked.

"Yeah." The Doctor scratched his neck. "He was born via my hand in a jar and a focus of regeneration energy. Though, I don't think his TARDIS coral will have matured enough for him and Rose to cross parallel universes to make an appearance. I mean, I'm good, but my trans-temporal communiqué isn't that good."

"Which one of you apes is hellbent on destroying the cosmos?" The ninth Doctor took that moment to arrive, ears and leather included, barrelling towards the fifth and sixth. "Was it you, clown?"

"I beg your pardon?" the sixth's voice rose.

"Didn't you see the cracks before you waltzed in? The fabric of space and time can't hold under this sort of pressure. So, again, I'll ask which one of you apes inspired this shindig? Was it you, dandy?"

As the third shrugged, the Doctor headed down the ramp towards the ninth.

"Anything we've done is hardly what you've done." The Doctor's voice lowered. "You're the most menacing one of us all. So, do us a favour, and be part of the solution, instead of the problem, you feckless thug."

"Doctor?" The fourth had stepped up to the console, making adjustments as if the console was his very own. "The meeting space looks about ready. Why don't I take the others that way, and you can wait for the last few Doctors? I'm sure the old girl will play nice."

The fourth looked up, and the TARDIS flickered. He smiled, as he said, "there's my girl."

"For once, I think I'll agree with the infuriating curly haired idiot. Perhaps, it's best to follow," the fifth moved up the ramp, looking to the sixth, who sighed before following.

The fourth headed up the stairs with five Doctors trailing behind him. The Doctor who didn't follow the group was the original, who stood back, and observed the Doctor with his ninth self.

"You don't get to judge me or anyone else here," the Doctor said, looking away. "Not after the things you've done."

"What does anything I do matter if we destroy time? We shouldn't be here, and you know it," the ninth said, his voice one step back from the intensity it was before. He pointed at the Doctor before crossing his arms.

"The Daleks are coming, Doctor," the original said, clearing his throat from the console. Both the Doctor and his ninth self looked up at him. "They're coming for you—For me. For every last one of us. I've seen the days ahead on an enemy I know next to nothing about. The way I see it, the universe shall have to either adjust to our presence, or be destroyed from the lack of it."

In that moment of silence, the tenth Doctor made his entrance, walking forward towards them with his hands in his pockets.

"Well, well, look what I've walked into. Is it tense in here? Because I'm certainly feeling a remarkable amount," the tenth said, looking towards the ninth, but speaking to the Doctor. "The amount of energy that appeared on my sensors could illuminate Earth until, well, the end of the universe and back again."

"Sorry about that," the Doctor said, brushing one hand through the side of his hair. "Didn't mean to turn up the wattage."

"You know he shouldn't be here." The tenth's eyes narrowed at the Doctor, as his head motioned to the original. "It's the worst of all possible scenarios."

"Yes, yes, I know," the Doctor replied. "But we have bigger problems than him."

"Try all of the other ones running amok through the TARDIS," the ninth said, leaning back on his heels. "Minus the musketeer."

"The muske—Oh, right, the Edwardian fellow." The tenth snapped his fingers. "He's not here?"

"You mean, the idiot who calls himself half-human." The ninth shook his head. "No."

"If any one of us was going to be ginger, it was going to be him," the tenth said. "Alas, such disappointment. What about the one that followed him?"

"Anyone's guess," the ninth said, throwing up his hand. "Probably hiding in some rubble somewhere thinking he's a hero."

"Gentleman, we must get started. If you would go on and catch up with the others, I'd like to have a word with the oldest one." The original once again interrupted.

"Oh right," the tenth said. "Absolutely."

"Whatever," the ninth said, shrugging.

"We'll go—They can't be hard to find, right?" The tenth asked the ninth, going up the ramp, past the Doctor and then their original self.

"Shouldn't be," the ninth replied. "Just follow the chaos."

"That's fair," the tenth said, heading up the stairs. "You know, I don't think we've ever done this many of us in the same room."

"Yeah well, you're about to discover how fun that is," the ninth huffed. "I don't like what the Chin's done with the place."

"Come to think of it, me neither," the tenth said with a similar echo, as their voices disappeared.

Silence.

"Did you put us in untold danger, Doctor?" The original asked, his hands reaching for a rail.

"No more than usual." The Doctor's eyes remained distant and unfocused on his original self.

"You're forgetting who you're talking to. How much danger is that exactly?"

"They weren't lying when they said we had put untold pressure on the walls of the universe. I'll have to do a bit of cleanup."

"When we are done here, see that you do," the original said, before turning and walking away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having gathered in the Medusa Cascade, the nine Doctors hear of the Daleks' plans, and discuss their fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, for the sake of sanity, please refer to the Doctors in your imagination and in this chapter text by their numbers. It was the easiest way to have nine Doctors in the same room at the same time, really.
> 
> The key characters in this chapter include: the First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, Ninth, Tenth, and Eleventh Doctors.

  
**Medusa Cascade – The Eleventh Doctor's Era**  


As the eleventh and the original Doctor entered the neutral space, the moonlit skylight over their heads casted the room in a midnight bluish glow offset by the warm light of the lamps and tall bookshelves that surrounded them.

The second and third Doctors had taken a seat in two leather wingback chairs sitting diagonal from one another. The third eyed them as they entered.

The fourth was leaning against one of the bookshelves to the right of them, his leg bent, as his eyes scanned the thick leather bound copy of Melville's Moby Dick in his hand. Near the fourth was the seventh, sitting on top of a short bureau dangling his feet back and forth, as his red brolly lay untouched beside him. 

Along the far wall, the fifth was sitting with the tenth on the last few stairs of a somewhat wide spiral staircase leading upwards to another level of bookshelves. The fifth and tenth's postures were similar, both leaning forward with their elbows on their knees.

This left the sixth and the ninth, pacing back and forth along opposite sides of a dark wood banquet table containing a long blue rectangle. As the eleventh approached, he noticed the silver Gallifreyan swirls and bobbles trailing along the rectangle.

"You made an interactive timeline," the eleventh said, breaking the silence.

"Yes, and you can thank him," the sixth said, pointing to the ninth. "He thought it would help with whatever this is."

The sixth motioned to the other Doctors, as the fourth set Moby Dick back on the shelf. The fifth and tenth Doctors stood, and the second and third remained in their seats.

"How long do you think it will be before they start arguing?" the second said, leaning towards the third. The third sat back, and shook his head. With one finger trailing his temple and the other across his lip, the third eyed the sixth. 

"I'd put money on the clown," he said.

"And not the dark brooding one in leather? You're on," the second said.

"Shall we get started?" the eleventh looked towards the original, who nodded.

"Time is of the essence," the original said.

"Excuse me, Doctors, but we're still missing several," the seventh said, clearing his throat. "The one with the floppy hair and his successor come to mind."

The fifth trailed along the timeline, his eyes squinting. When he couldn't read the symbols, he moved several swirls out of the way with several fingertips.

"The eighth one looks too close to the war, and his successor—" 

"Is not a Doctor. Therefore, not invited," the ninth replied with a slight huff, crossing his arms.

"Be that as it may," the tenth said, his voice firm yet not as commanding as some of the others. His eyes followed the same path as the fifth's. "He's in the same predicament as the eighth. The trans-temporal communiqué arrived too close to a fixed point for him to be called away."

"Alright then, someone better start explaining why we are here." The sixth mimicked the ninth by crossing his arms. "Because I don't like having my life interrupted by you lot."

"As if your life was anything to brag about," the seventh said.

The sixth and seventh continued trading barbs from a distance, as the other Doctors closest to the timeline began arguing.

"We should stay out of this one, right?" the third said to the second. 

"Absolutely," the second said. "No need for us to spar with anyone but ourselves."

"Gentlemen," the original spoke, and the others quieted. "I did not call you here to squabble like adolescents. I have seen a piece of each of your lives, and none of you are guilt free from mistakes. And, the Daleks are coming." 

There was silence as each Doctor retreated, and the tension in the air focused on the original. The original looked to the fourth, taking several steps towards him, as though looking at him made the Matrix's simulation a bit too real.

"You know this for a fact, do you?" the fourth asked, and the original nodded. 

"I only saw what the Matrix showed me," the original said, turning towards the others. "However, from looking at all of you, I can only determine that the Matrix is quite accurate."

"That blasted computer is nothing more than a curse," the sixth said, rubbing his forehead.

"Be that as it may," the original repeated the tenth, his eyebrow edging upward. "It brought me here, to you, which is the last place I'm guessing I need to be. So, put aside your petty differences; we have work to do." 

The nine Doctors moved, each taking their place around the timeline. The original stood at one end, the eleventh, fourth, seventh, and third to his left. The tenth, the fifth, the sixth and the ninth Doctors stood to his right. The second remained on the end.

"You told me Romana sent you," the eleventh said. He didn't have to look to see the fourth's eyebrow furrow next to him. "Which means she knew something that we didn't."

"Fred knew a lot we didn't," the tenth said.

"Agreed," the fourth said.

"The Matrix in her era had predicted two ends to the war—" the original said, his gaze lowering, as her words echoed throughout her mind. "One in which we survived, and one in which we didn't."

"Sandshoes here, the ears near the end, and I all survived the war," the eleventh said, exchanging glances with the tenth across from him. "So, we know that that end eventually comes true."

"Yes, if time was static and linear, but we know it isn't," the second said. "Which means something is different now."

"You mean like the nine of us standing around swapping stories?" the sixth asked. 

"I mean like that," the second pointed to the timeline. The silver Gallifreyan swirls from before still lined the rectangle in chronological order but towards the war, the swirls branched off in lesser silver colours going in no direction other than into one another.

"Time can be rewritten," the eleventh said, exhaling. "Which is exactly what it looks like the Daleks are trying to do."

"The Daleks will try to take us at some point in each of our lives," the original said.

"Splendid—Is there a way we can fight them?" the third asked. 

"Are you mental?" the seventh asked, turning towards the third. "We're explorers and scientists, not warriors. We would never make it past one of Davros's ships. There has to be another way." 

"The Daleks are our greatest foe," the sixth replied. "They'll never cease to prove their resilience time after time, fight after blessed fight."

"Yes, but we are equally as resilient," the tenth said. "And since we can't fight them without potentially damaging our timeline, we're going to have to outrun them."

"There will be nowhere we can run that they won't find us," the fourth said.

"No, but we can hide," the tenth said, looking to the eleventh for confirmation. "But in order for this to work, we're all going to need to be in agreement." 

"It's too dangerous," the eleventh said. "Like he said." He motioned to the fourth. "There's nowhere we can hide." 

"As Time Lords, perhaps, but as humans? As humans, we can go anywhere, and be virtually undetected until the time comes," the tenth said. 

"What you're suggesting hasn't been done since the early ages of the Time Lords," the second one said.

"Probably not, but it is the safest way to ensure the Daleks won't find you," the tenth said. "I've successfully fobbed before. I know how to build and use the Chameleon Arch." 

"At what risk?" the original asked.

"Does the risk matter?" the fourth asked. "If we are in as much danger as you're suggesting, the decision should be a simple one."

"Except that it isn't," the eleventh said. "Because none of you have bore witness to the excruciating amount of pain that is involved. The Chameleon Arch modifies our entire genetic makeup. Every cell, every dendrite, everything that makes us us is gone, and another being remains."

"Because that is what we need—Amnesia and a headache," the sixth said, with a sigh. 

"And after that? We wander the universe not knowing how or why or without some form of way back?" the second asked. 

"Each of you will possess a watch containing everything that you'll need to restore yourselves," the tenth said.

"And how will we know to restore ourselves if we aren't ourselves?" the seventh asked.

"That's where the companions will have to come in," the fifth said, and each of the Doctors looked at him. "We'll each need someone who knows how to bring us back."

"And what if the Daleks kidnap our companions instead? Then what will we do?" the third asked.

"They're not going to take them, old boy," the fifth said. He looked to the fourth. "And, if they happen to, well, we'll only trust the best ones, eh?"

"But of course," the fourth said. "Though, for simplicity's sake, I suggest we all try to stick to Earth. It is our companions' home, and will make the hiding undoubtedly easier."

Silence appeared, as each Doctor looked to the timeline. 

"Since I haven't heard any true objections, I'm going to assume we are all in agreement," the original said, looking towards the tenth. "And as you know this technology, I'm going to trust that you will be the one to build the arc and see to our defobbing?"

The tenth Doctor nodded.

"Excellent, now, each of us must choose a place on Earth to hide from the Daleks. As I do not know this planet, I will pre-set the coordinates before I arrive. Susan and I will take great care to keep the ship out of the way of the natives," the original said, looking down towards the end of the table. The timeline shifted, revealing new swirls and bobbles in gold along the silver. "What say you, hobo? Where will you go?"

The second cleared this throat.

"I must admit, if I have to participate in this ridiculous charade, I'd like Jamie to look after me," the second said. "I believe he is currently in mid 18th century Scotland."

"Yes, having barely survived the battle of Culloden," the sixth chimed in. "You're going to have to work extra hard to re-establish your relationship with him."

"Jamie's a smart lad," the second said.

"I never said he wasn't," the sixth replied. "But one day, you'll blackmail the Time Lords into altering Jamie's memories once more, and they will never be the same if you mess this up."

"You're awfully harsh, Sixie. I don't see the harm in letting him join Clan McCrimmon for a while," the eleventh said, from the other end. He swiped at the timeline, allowing for the second Doctor's journey to be integrated into the golden swirls.

"Shows what you've forgotten about history," the sixth huffed. "The McCrimmons are pipers for Clan McLaren."

The eleventh waved him away.

"Moving along, I believe it is the third Doctor's turn—" The original spoke once more, and the Doctors' eyes went towards the third. "Where are you headed?"

"Back to UNIT," the third replied, a smirk on the edge of his lips that generally meant he had his answer before the rest. "For I am already living out an imposed Time Lord exile. It doesn't particularly make sense for me to go somewhere else." 

"I disagree," the fourth said. "There is a high probability the Daleks will find you, and/or you will fail to meet Sarah. Failing to meet Sarah is not up for discussion." 

Standing between the third and fourth Doctors, the seventh leaned towards the fourth.

"They won't find him if he is disguised as a human," the seventh said, his voice lowering. "He has a right to go where he wants."

"Really, and what about my right? What about Sarah's?" The fourth leaned on the banquet table, his balled up fists not quite touching the timeline. "I forbid you from going."

"You forbid me? Ha, what utter nonsense. It's my exile and my choice," the third said. "You choose somewhere else."

"Hey, we have all of Earth's history to choose from, why don't we work out a compromise, eh?" the fifth asked, putting his hands together.

"I'm listening," the fourth said, with a slight huff. The fifth motioned to the tenth, as the tenth and eleventh Doctors exchanged glances.

"Fine," the tenth said, crossing his arms. "The third Doctor will be allowed to return to UNIT the moment he left, which from here, looks like the day Liz Shaw left to return to Cambridge."

"Go on," the third said. 

"However, he will have to be unfobbed before UNIT scientists start disappearing," the tenth added his notes to the timeline. Another gold set of swirls integrated themselves along the rectangle.

"How are UNIT scientists disappearing a compromise?" the fourth asked. 

"Because as long as he meets Sarah, your timeline stays intact," the eleventh moved, stepping between the seventh and third Doctors to add to the timeline. He and the tenth adjusted the timeline accordingly. "You can meet up with Sarah whenever you like."

"Is this Sarah really this important?" the second asked.

"More than you know," the ninth said from next to him, having remained quiet.

"So, that's where I come in, yeah?" the fifth asked. "I left Turlough to come here. Only makes sense that I pick him back up, and he hold onto the watch for me."

"You wouldn't want to be with Tegan?" the sixth asked. 

"Of course, if she'd have me. I suspect that she won't, and it would probably create some weird sort of wormhole to end up on Earth at the same time as him," the fifth said, motioning to the fourth.

"Hardly," the eleventh said. "You wouldn't know each other, or even be on the same continent. That's the compromise. Doctors in different places instead of overlapping ones."

"I know where I'm going," the sixth said. "I'm going to Peri."

"Do you even know where you left Peri?" The seventh asked. "Because from what we both know of her various futures, Peri's not on Earth. Therefore, she is out of the question."

"Then whom shall I go to? The insuffering computer programmer? I'm well aware of the Matrix too, you know. Carrot juice, indeed."

"I don't think any of us care where you go, Sixie. You don't have anything blocking your portion of time," the eleventh said, motioning around. "Pick a point, and leave a trail for Sandshoes here to find and you'll be alright."

"I'm glad to see that out of all of us, none of you care where I end up or what happens to me," the sixth said. "I'll figure out something."

"I guess that leaves me then," the seventh said. 

"Yes, and unfortunately, I think your choice has been made for you," the fourth pointed to the timeline where a fixed swirl sat. The eleventh reached for it, expanding the darker swirl, that hadn't changed from silver to gold despite the earlier changes in the Doctor's history. "One last mission for the Time Lords."

"You will be called to Skaro," the ninth said, his expression shifting to a much softer one. "To bring the Master home to Gallifrey. I'm sorry."

The ninth looked to the third, whose expression matched his.

"Is that the last of him then?" the third asked. The ninth nodded, and the tenth and eleventh Doctors didn't bother correcting him. "I see."

"With you being so close to—" the ninth didn't even finish. "The Daleks won't bother to try and come for you."

"Then to Skaro I go," the seventh said, as the fourth touched his shoulder.

"Well, that certainly takes care of us that exist before the war," the second said. "So, then the question becomes, what about you three?"

The ninth, tenth, and eleventh Doctors exchanged glances.

"The tenth will undoubtedly do the beginning legwork, setting up the arch, and making sure we are all successfully fobbed. Our companions must know what they are up against," the original said.

"Understood," the tenth said.

"Yes, but someone will need to unfob us when the time comes," the third said, motioning to the ninth. "I recommend this fellow."

"Me?"

"Is something prohibiting you from being a help rather than a hindrance?" the third asked. "Because you have added nothing to this conversation other than the fact that this fellow is about to end his days dealing with the Master."

"Better him than you," the ninth said. There was a pause before he straightened, and looked to the original. "I'll make sure everyone is unfobbed."

"Good," the original said, sighing. "Because this meeting has caused untold damage on the space-time continuum and our personal timelines. It is your job, eleventh Doctor, to make sure that the damage is corrected. You'll need to reset the universe in order to heal the cracks. It is my hope that by doing so, you disable the Daleks from attempting something like this again."

"I'll do my best," the eleventh said. "Though, I must say, gentlemen, that no matter what happens, it has been my honour to be with all of you today."

"I think I speak for all of us when I say likewise," the fifth said.

All conversations stopped, as an alarm began sounding throughout the ship. 

"On that note, I think we'd all better cut this visit short," the tenth said, and the Doctors scrambled towards the door. The TARDIS was generous, and the console room was only two turns past their neutral space.

The console room was shaking with increasing effort. 

"Take him and go," the ninth said to the tenth, while motioning to the first. "Because none of this will come to fruition if he doesn't make it out of here."

The tenth and first Doctor went towards the ramp.

"What are we looking for?" The sixth grabbed the eleventh Doctor's monitor as the other Doctors crowded around the console. For once, each of the six spaces of the type-40 were more than adequately covered by at least one Doctor.

"First of all, a way to shut that infernal racket," the fifth said, to which someone hit the alarm switch. His hands automatically went to making adjustments across the console. "Oh thank you. Next, a way to split our TARDISes. Our nice and neat bubble of type-40s has begun to collapse."

"We have to split theirs first," the eleventh said, squeezing between the ninth and sixth Doctors. "One and Ten, coming right up."

The eleventh hit a button.

"Over here," the fourth said, motioning to the sixth to pass the monitor. The sixth did so by pushing extra hard, as the third and seventh leaned back to avoid being hit. "We're going to have to turn down our shields."

"Not turn down, turn off," the seventh replied, pushing several buttons. The fourth flipped several switches, but not before sliding the monitor to the ninth, who was standing next to him. "Or else, we are going to overload the board with artron energy."

"We need some sort of surge protector to handle the random energy bursts," the sixth said. The eleventh took a step back, and descended down the stairs behind him. 

Circuits popped and sparked around them, and several Doctors leaned in towards the console in order to avoid being hit with sparks.

"We weren't kidding. Sandshoes, get him out of here," the eleventh said, pointing at the original. The tenth led the original towards the door, despite the fact that he wanted to join the others at the console.

"The tapestry of the cascade is breaking down, and is literally unravelling around us. If we're not careful, we'll get caught in one of the threads," the fifth said, leaning towards the fourth. "I need more power."

"I've shed more rooms than I care to think about," the fourth said. "Younger Bowtie, what do you have?" 

"I have nothing. I'm merely maintaining our position," the second said. "Because if we don't hold steady, we're likely to dematerialize without warning and punch a hole in the Vortex."

The third studied the time rotor, and reached for the main lever. It didn't budge.

"The time rotor, it's not moving," the third said. He looked down to the eleventh. "I don't know what you're doing down there, but make it snappy."

"What do you think I'm doing down here?" The eleventh had thick goggles and several thick cables in his hands. "I could use less sass and more help."

"Don't just stand here, dear boy, help them," the original said to the tenth, to which the tenth looked to the others. Without thinking, he ran up the ramp, whirling around the console as a large spark came down on both him and the ninth Doctor.

"We're fine, we're okay," the tenth said. He motioned to the fourth. "Four, use everything you can to avoid us being sucked into the rift. Seven, divert the shield energy into the dematerialization circuit. Younger Bowtie, get us into that Vortex."

"But how?" the second asked, to which the tenth smirked.

"I have waited a very long time to say this, but you'll need to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow." The tenth laughed, and continued circling around. At one point, he leaned over the rail. "Oy, you down there, stop what you're doing."

"Stop what I'm doing? What on Gallifrey for?" The eleventh put the goggles on top of his head. 

"Because we don't want to dampen the energy. We want to direct it," the fifth said, before the tenth could speak.

"Exactly," the tenth said.

"I can help with that," the eleventh said, having moved to grab a different set of cables. The third Doctor noticed the time rotor began to move.

"I think we're back in business," the third said, twisting several smaller knobs to fine-tune the time rotor. He looked to the second standing next to him. "As long as we have guidance." 

"Yes, yes, and I even remembered to turn the brakes off," the second said, also looking to the time rotor. "Standby."

No one moved, as the TARDIS shifted. The first few seconds were rocky, but then the TARDIS transitioned into a calmer atmosphere. The transition was so smooth that no one heard the usual shift of engine whirling into place.

"We're not out of the woods yet," the fourth said. A slow toothy grin began to appear. "But I definitely think no one is going to die." 

"Before we do anything else, we need to get the old man and Sandshoes' TARDIS separated from the others," the ninth said.

"What is it with you lot and my shoes?" The tenth lifted, and wiggled one foot. "They're practical in every situation."

The ninth shrugged, and an unusual smirk appeared. The eleventh came up the stairs, and stood next to the tenth. 

"His nickname wasn't far off the mark," the ninth said, looking towards the tenth's sandy shoes. He returned to adjusting controls. "How are we on power?" 

"All systems appear stable," the fifth said, flipping a lever. "The Vortex will absorb our excess energy long after we've gone."

"And I reversed the polarity of the neutron flow," the second said, as though the words were foreign on his tongue. He looked to the third. "I trust you know how to section the energy back into each of our TARDISes?"

"Of course I do. My shipyard standards—" 

"Are rubbish." The other Doctors chimed in, most of them taking a step back, or waving the third Doctor away. The tenth even plopped into one of the two seats. No one noticed the original Doctor approaching.

"At first, I was naïve, but now I see how we all fit together. From one to the next across all of my lives," the original said, standing in the middle of the ramp. "You are all truly extraordinary."

"You'd better hold onto that," the seventh said. "Never know when you might need it."

"Speaking of holding onto things, Seven, where is that ridiculous brolly of yours? I don't see it anywhere," the sixth asked, to which the seventh patted himself down.

"I—I must have left it," the seventh said. "In the neutral space."

"And, didn't you say we had shed a lot of rooms?" The fifth looked to the fourth, who shrugged.

"Did I? Yes, I suppose I did. My sincerest apologies," the fourth said, trying to contain his laughter. 

"I think that's our cue." The tenth stood, making his way towards the original. He hit several buttons on the console, including the dematerialization circuit, as he passed. "I think we're going to take the easier way out of here."

"Oh?"

"The older bowtie hasn't changed his console all that much. You should probably say goodbye," the tenth said to the original, as the tenth and the original faced the others.

"Goodbye Doctors, safe journeys—" The original Doctor hardly had the words out of his mouth that both the original and tenth Doctors faded out of sight.


End file.
